Sahara, my hurt people
Heart in love, the goddess of magic and the southern wind, beats rhythm with the clock of time. Heart in love, keeping old silences, eternal hope, not wars, not abuse, in this song of old goldfinch,
I implore for your liberty slave princess, in this, my beloved desert.
You were an activist, a poetic muse of my sweet verses at dawn; defender of human rights, of peace, in my beloved people of the Sahara, torn and wounded.
You were arrested, raped and persecuted, tortured and imprisoned in this human existence; but they couldn’t silence the voice of your exquisite soul. Soul of libertarian poet, promised of the southern wind…
Musa liberator of my people, muse embellished by the glare of the Great Central Sun, at dawn… Defender of Mother Liberty, poet of beautiful dreamlike verses, revolutionary whispers of old goldfinches, crying out for justice and freedom for this one, my beloved wounded people.
To the courage to live, to the silent revolution of peace. Your poetry, precious ode to freedom, to the tears of my ancestral people, wounded.
Silver tears, white coral pearls, clamors of freedom … cries torn, of this, my beautiful forbidden people.
People in love with the red moon and the son of the wind; faithful reflections of my diamond macrouniverse.
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